PRESS RELEASE: Finding Your Force~

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE


BOOK RELEASE FOR
FINDING YOUR FORCE by ALICIA ANABEL SANTOS

Media contact: Emma Diaz
Email: findingyourforce@gmail.com









NEW YORK, NY, August 18, 2011 — Finding Your Force: A Journey to Love. Finding Your Force is a memoir written in the form of a love letter to a daughter. In this intimate conversation we journey into the darkest parts of Alicia’s soul. We walk with her as she digs deep underneath the ruins where all her secrets are kept. Santos is being called on an excavation to stop running and face those moments that have transformed her from surviving rape, healing through loss and coming out as a lesbian. This is a journey about life, death and rebirth. Alicia tells her daughter a story that is raw and heart wrenching. It is not a love story but definitely a story of love. Finding Your Force was just released on August 6, 2011 (410 pp., tpb, $19.99, ISBN: 9780983794301).


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alicia Anabel Santos is a Latina Writer, Producer and Playwright. She is a New York-born Dominican who is passionate about writing works that empower and inspire women to find their voices. Currently, she is completing her historical fiction novel titled, The Daughters of the Revolution. She is the Founder of the New York City Latina Writers Group. Santos has been traveling for three years working on the documentary Afrolatinos: The Untaught Story (WWW.AFROLATINOS.TV) and her play I WAS BORN was chosen as part of the ONE Festival in NYC, where she takes you through the labyrinth of Latin America where seven brave women tell you their stories. Alicia lives in Harlem, NYC with her daughter Courtniana. She works as a freelance writer and activist against sexual and physical abuse towards women and children. She attended New York University and Rhode Island College.

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING

“I have so much respect for your spirit, strength and sincerity. Many people aren’t able to survive the kind of trauma that you are writing about.”

“I am so proud of you for standing up for your words, for realizing your worth, over and over again. I’m happy that you show your humanness and allow your readers to see where you hurt and to see you revive and gain strength again. People respond because you initiate -dialogue, thoughts, words! You also show what you won't tolerate, the non-negotiable. Part of that involves the space that no one is allowed to enter unless you give them access, which shows you are still in control. How do you stay strong? By staying true to all that you are now and all that you are growing to become!”

BOOK AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM

EVENT DETAILS
Saturday, August 20, 2011, 4:00pm – 7:00pm
Hue-Man Bookstore & Café, 2319 Frederick Douglass Blvd New York, NY 10027

The author is available for speaking engagements and community organization meetings. To arrange book signings or interviews contact Emma Diaz via email at findingyourforce@gmail.com. Visit author website at: http://findingyourforce.blogspot.com/

Chapter 1: How could she love someone who beats her?

CHAPTER ONE - Cielo’s little box~

I want to tell you a story about Cielo and her favorite box~

Cielo is little girl with dark eyes and no smile. She has beautiful brown hair that feels like silk. Her skin is like caramel. She came to me the other day and we sat. She sat in front me and didn’t say a word. I could tell she wanted to laugh at my funny faces but she was afraid to. I wanted to play with Cielo, but she has never played with anyone. Cielo has been in prison since the day she left the womb. Her life story was revealed to me with out the use of words, through her eyes because she couldn't speak. I have never heard her voice. She said nothing the entire time we were together… but her eyes told me everything. They told me that she was sad, that she was lonely, that something was missing, that someone had taken something very special from her. She told me that she has never once held a doll.

No one talks to Cielo.
No one visits Cielo.
No one looks at Cielo.
No one sees Cielo.
No one asks Cielo if she’s happy.
No one asks Cielo if there is anything she needs.
No one asks Cielo if she wants to play.
No one asks Cielo what she wants to be when she grows up.
No one asks Cielo what her dreams are.
No one has ever told Cielo that she is special.
No one has ever told Cielo that she is beautiful.

I kept visiting her. I kept listening to her silence. And one day her eyes smiled at me when I said, Cielo, I love you! If no one has ever told you that… allow me to be the first…

Cielo you are magnificent.
Cielo you can be anything you want be.
Cielo I love playing with you.
Cielo you are my best friend.
Cielo your eyes are kind.
Cielo you are special.
Cielo you are beautiful.
Cielo you were born for greatness.
Cielo you are love.

KNOW THAT YOU ARE LOVED~

Her eyes started to get watery. A tear fell down her face. “Cielo what did I do? Have I hurt your feelings? Don't be sad. What is it? Are you hurt? I can see the pain in you. I see it in the blood from your tears. Who has hurt you? I will protect you. Don't cry. You will have all you desire. All your dreams will come true. The pain that you are feeling will eventually go away in time. Cielo, what’s that on your lap? What's in the box?”

She carries a box and holds on to it tight. She would not let me hold it. She wouldn’t let me see what was inside of the box. She was protecting it. Cielo was afraid that if he found out what she carries in that box he would take it from her. I wondered if it was lonely for her walking in the world alone. A girl should never walk alone when she's only in the 4th grade and can’t speak. A lot can happen to a little girl who walks the woods alone. Stripped of her core, her personality hidden, forced to be who she’s not.

Cielo will go through life gripping her box, never opening it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Child’s Playground

I was riding the train one day when I saw this beautiful Central American girl. She had dark hair and dark eyes. She must have been 4 years old. She was just swinging around a pole… smiling and laughing… she had no worries in the world – she was so happy. The D train was her playground and it didn't matter who was around looking. Nothing could take away her happiness. She kept playing and playing. In that moment I couldn't help but think about all the kids I see daily. The cute Asian boy sitting next to his mother who was sleeping while he drew these incredible sketches of what I can only imagine will be a video game he will develop in the future. I also remember a family sitting across from me on the train a little girl, her mom and dad all playing together acting silly – it was beautiful to watch. There was a little baby in the stroller who was with angry parents who were arguing yelling at each other on the train when suddenly, the baby looked at me, I just smiled and she smiled back and in THAT moment I knew that nothing else mattered but the two of us smiling back and forth while the grown ups were piss't off at each other.

Some other moments I’m recalling, are of the little boy who was walking with his father who a minute ago was happy and then got slapped in the face for speaking in a tone that his dad didn't like. Then there’s a three-year-old boy walking with his mother being yelled at in Spanish. As they approached a restaurant she said to him, “habre esa puerta! Silve pa algo!" (Open that door - - be worth something - - be good for something). The worst moment for me though was the day I actually saw a mother slap her child in the face. Just imagine the sounds echoing loudly over the 125th Street a noise. The slap was heard above the sounds of buses, and horns honking, a noise that went directly through me, a noise that felt like she just slapped me. All I kept thinking about was that little boy. What will he grow up to believe about himself? Will he think that he’s special? Will he know that he's gifted? Will he believe that he can be anything he wants to be? Where will he find his sense of worth when the people closest to him are stripping him of that?

`````````````````````

For a long time Cielo felt like she was fighting for her life. She’s been keeping it safe in that box. She won’t let anyone near it. I wanted to ask her how she could love someone who beats her. But I knew the answer…

You tend to love them anyway. You tend to love them more. You forgive them easily. You will do just about anything to gain their love. Even take their abuse. You want them to love you and you want them to stop beating you.

Please help spread the word. To help publish my memoir please visit: FINDING YOUR FORCE on kickstarter

If you get five or more people to back me… you will get receive a special gift not listed.

Thank you for your support.

Peace, light and LOVE~
Alicia

Chapter 11: I was self medicating... numbing the pain~

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It’s my first day on the job. The new boss was FINE!!! She was fucking FIERCE!!! I know I use that word a lot… but she was. Her job—she was the Editor-in-Chief. I would be in charge of all that goes with assisting someone at her level. I was in charge of organizing her style book that she would take on trips. The woman even had a clothing budget. Part of my job was to work with the style department and put together these binders with images of all her outfits, the shoes that went with them, the color make up that complimented them, and the accessories. LOVED IT!!! She walked in wearing this white suit… these beautiful pumps, her hair was straight. This B&*%# was bad!!!! We met for a few minutes. She told me she had some meetings but that we would catch up later.

I could finally breathe. It was a brand new day. I could begin again. I was alive again. I could move forward.

She returned to the office and asked me to come in and shut the door. Her office was beautiful. There were paintings everywhere, a couch and large bookshelves. There was a private bathroom. “Alicia, have a seat, what I’m about to share with you can not leave these walls.” I was like ok… awesome… company secrets I’m in.

“They just fucking fired me. I have until the end of the day to gather my things. After being here over ten years they just let me go. There’s a lot I need you to do for me.”

Did she just tell me that she was fired? ON MY FIRST DAY OF WORK! You’re fucking kidding me right? This is a joke! This is a horrible joke! This can’t be happening to me. Where are the hidden cameras?

I spent the day scheduling meetings with her direct reports. She asked for a meeting at the end of the day with the entire editorial team of over 30+ people to say goodbye. I wanted to die. This was so not happening to me. I was moving up… I was moving forward… and now I was moving all of her shit out of her office. I was only kept on in that role until the new publisher came on board and then I would be out of a job because he was bringing his assistant with him. WHAT???????????????????????????

The head of Human Resources told me not to worry about it that they would find something for me but this was just all so fucked up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alicia, we have some great news. We are launching a new magazine. You would be supporting the Editor-in-Chief. Are you interested?”

HELLO!!!! Am I interested? Hell yeahhhhhhhh!!!

The interview went great. I met the EIC and we hit it off. This was her first magazine and role as Editor-in-Chief. She had no experience launching a magazine and was putting together a strong team to launch her baby. I was excited at the potential to write for this magazine. I couldn’t wait to get to know her. I was a part of the editorial meetings. She shared concepts with me. It was so much fun learning the step by step making of a magazine. I was involved in ordering all of the office equipment and décor. I finally felt like I was part of a team.

Ok… I could totally go on and on right now about how glamorous this new job was. Or I can just jump to the truth. This job fucking sucked. After working together for a few months I started asking for more responsibilities. I wanted to write for the magazine. She didn’t respect me. She was horrible to me. She was incredibly disrespectful and condescending. I believe she was a racist. I spent more time ordering shit for her private house parties than doing any real work. Anytime I spoke out on anything it seemed like she had a problem with me. I really believe she had a problem with the fact that I had ideas and thoughts. I think she just wanted some young, fresh, right out of college, newbie, “white girl,” as her assistant. Honestly, I think she picked me because she had to—not because she wanted to. And so as the months went on I continued to take her shit and downloaded all the photos from her camera of her travels, ordered the pizza and cupcakes for her daughter’s birthday party, bought her makeup at Sephora and ordered her lunch everyday.

I was in NYC… my dream come true. Ever since I was 15… when my parents pulled me out Richmond Hill High School to move to Rhode Island all I ever wanted was to return to NYC. And now I knew that I was a writer. The sad thing about that was that once KB died I never wrote again. I was uninspired. Our house was an absolute mess. There were piles and piles of clothes everywhere. We were living in an episode of hoarders. I was so unhappy. I was incredibly depressed. I saw Dr. Kate every week for therapy and Dr. Chan for my medications. I was on all kinds of medications for ADD, antidepressants, pills to help me sleep, pills to get me going. I was drinking a bottle of wine a night. One day you looked at me and said, “Mommy, you always have a glass of wine as soon as we walk in the door. Why?” I don’t even know what I said to you. I probably said something lame like, “I just like to unwind. I have glass once in a while to relax.” When the reality was that I was self medicating and numbing the pain.

Please help spread the word. To help publish my memoir please visit: FINDING YOUR FORCE on kickstarter

If you get five or more people to back me… you will get receive a special gift not listed.

Thank you for your support.

Peace, light and LOVE~
Alicia